


May I Have This Dance?

by orphan_account



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Poland NT, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2696264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It clicks in Robert's head before Wojciech has time to turn around and offer out his hand. "Oh no, Wojciech, not happening."</p>
            </blockquote>





	May I Have This Dance?

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading about how Wojciech did ballroom dancing when he was younger and the idea for this fic was born. That and I've been on a bit of a Woj/Lewy kick as of late.

They see each other when life permits. This time it is Robert that comes to London, inconspicuous baseball cap and all, already there when Wojciech eventually gets to the airport. Mostly they talk about irrelevant, little things in the car on the way to Wojciech's house; football, injuries, form...all that looms in the minds of footballers but with no great significance in the grand scheme of things.

They play videogames when they get home, each prompting various degrees of boisterous behaviour from the both of them. Wojciech doesn't mind play-fighting with Robert, easily stronger than the older man, but only because it descends into a frenzy of hot kisses and an abandoned game of FIFA that he may or may not have been losing anyway. He sits on Robert, holding him still, and places a few dozen breathless, sloppy kisses up and down his neck as he writhes beneath him.

Robert complains of hunger before anything really happens. Sex or food has always been a difficult choice, probably the hardest Wojciech will make all evening, but food triumphs in the end. It has to be healthy, of course, with Robert inspecting the back of packets carefully, imparting useless wisdom about calories on Wojciech's less than willing ears.

It gets late but neither of them are tired. They watch a film together - some shitty British film with Polish subtitles because Robert's not quite good enough to understand the quick English slang that is being spoken - side by side, feet kicked out onto the coffee in front of them. Wojciech gets bored, and then he gets an idea, both of which send red alarm bells off in Robert's head.

"Wojciech," Robert begins, watching as the goalkeeper saunters over to an iPod dock, turning the television off in the process, "what are you doing?"

Wojciech glances over his shoulder, a wicked grin plastering his face.

It clicks in Robert's head before Wojciech has time to turn around and offer out his hand. "Oh no, Wojciech, not happening."

"Come _here_ , Lewy," Wojciech says, a little force in his words. It is not the order that makes Robert get to his feet, but the silent challenge in Wojciech's eyes. Defiance quickly turns to regret with every stride he takes towards the younger man, though. He has no idea why his palms begin to sweat.

"This is ridiculous," Robert complains, about to turn back when Wojciech catches his wrist and places his hand on his shoulder. "You're ridiculous," he adds.

Robert's jaw is set, his shoulders straight in resistance. The music plays in the background, beat after beat, and eventually Wojciech snakes one arm around Robert’s waist, forcing him closer. With his free hand, Wojciech touches the side of Robert's neck, fingers skimming over his jugular, almost able to feel the hot rush of blood beneath his skin. At once, Robert relaxes a little, allowing Wojciech to pull him in a little tighter, all the way until the younger man's mouth is by his ear.

"Tell me if this gets too scary for you, Robert," he teases, entwining their fingers together.

Wojciech turns them in a steady, slow circle, leading them to the left as Robert stares at his feet, trying to follow Wojciech's lead but misjudging the space between them and stepping on his toes. Their kneecaps bang, too, but Robert's flustered apologies are only met with the press of Wojciech's thumb harder into his hip, guiding him further, and a goofy grin down at him.

At one point, Wojciech becomes lost, humming along with the song and shutting his eyes, enjoying the feel of Robert's body pressing close to his own. They fall out of rhythm after that, accidently bumping into the wall when Wojciech loses his bearings and Robert trips, forgetting to pay attention to his feet in favour of staring at the peaceful bliss on Wojciech's face as they danced.

Robert keeps Wojciech against the wall, leans up and into him, kisses him slow and sweet, hands flat against his chest. Wojciech grips Robert's waist, not quite tight enough to bruise.

Wojciech swallows, looking down at him. "Not bad for a beginner."

"Shut up, idiot," Robert says, and this time it is his turn to smile wickedly. Without warning, he thrusts his hips towards Wojciech, miscalculated and needy, before pulling him down again by the collar of his t-shirt.

Wojciech's pretty sure Robert has the Devil in him.

"Next time, I'll let you lead," he says, patting Robert on the cheek as they separate. He turns off the music and turns back to Robert, who is tugging off his t-shirt. "You too hot? Want me to turn down the heating?" he teases, sauntering back to him, dragging his knuckles against the newly exposed skin of Robert's abdomen.

"I can't wait that long," he mutters, tugging on Wojciech's own t-shirt, dragging him with him.

Robert fucks like he dances; without skill and in need of guidance, but Wojciech is much the same this time around. Sometimes, Robert remembers that he has absolutely no idea what he's doing - both right in that moment and in the broader sense. _Why am I here? Why are we doing this? Why do you make me feel like this?_ \- but then Wojciech's hands are on him and he forgets whatever stupid question had occupied his mind in the previous moment.

"I meant it, you know," Wojciech says, his chin uncomfortably digging into Robert's chest as he speaks.

"What?"

"That you weren't that bad for a beginner." Perhaps, maybe for the first time in his life, Wojciech sounds genuine to Robert. The older Pole smiles, eyes crinkling, and runs a hand through Wojciech's hair. "But I suppose that's not really a big surprise considering you had such an awesome teacher..."

Wojciech laughs as Robert shoves him off of his body and whacks him with a spare pillow. "Unbelievable," Robert mutters, but he's soon laughing too.


End file.
